


The Unmarked Knight

by ApprenticedMagician



Series: 2014 BBC Merlin Fest [3]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: 5x05 The Disir, Gen, Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-04
Updated: 2017-03-04
Packaged: 2018-09-28 04:35:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10071974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ApprenticedMagician/pseuds/ApprenticedMagician
Summary: After the events of The Disir, Mordred takes a moment alone to reflect on the life he's lead and the lies he no longer wants to live.





	

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt for this day was One Scene and of all my favourites that I could have chosen, I chose one that showcased the potential for Mordred and Merlin's alliance as they speak over the grave of Osgard, the sorcerer who delivered the token of judgement to Arthur from the Disir.

A mile’s walk from Camelot’s castle, a young man lay against a tree in the forest. He was a plain man, nothing utterly remarkable about him; a dark mop of hair, eyes coloured blue if he would open them, a blue tunic, brown trousers, boots off his feet and joined by a coat that had been tossed back when the man had first settled down.

Sunshine filtered through the leaves above this man and he was glad for once to be out of his chainmail so that he could feel it warm his hair, his skin, _his soul_. It had been too long since he had done this last, sat in nature and absorbed the forest. Birds could be heard singing. Small rustles in the undergrowth told him small rodents must be scurrying about.

The forest was at peace today.

Mordred only wished he could feel the same.

Sighing, the young knight opened his eyes, breaking his connection with the earth and musing over recent events once again.

“ _We go unmarked in death, as in life._ ”

Those had been his words to Merlin while stood over Osgard’s grave and he really had meant them as he said them. But they hadn’t been true, he could see that now, and it didn’t sit right with him.

Certainly Merlin went through life unmarked, unnoticed, disregarded by most as an inconsequential servant. His true nature, Emrys, was even more invisible, unknown and unseen by Merlin himself let alone by anyone outside of him. By all rights, Mordred – a druid boy with no family and no destiny and no great talent for magic – should be just as hidden.

But he wasn’t hidden at all. Instead, Mordred was a Knight of Camelot and of personal value to Arthur because he was proof that life could change for the druids. Mordred was respected among the commonwealth and the knights because he had saved the king’s life in the caves beneath Ismere and in the caves of the Disir. More than that, he was _liked_ among the knights – treated as a real addition to the brotherhood – because he had proved himself to them through his hard work, his admiration, and yes, his naiveté. He had witnessed how rejuvenating it was for them to have a young recruit among them who stood in awe of their prowess, who asked admiringly for tips in training, who could be roped into riding a horse backwards to “meld the saddle” and take any ribbing or clobbering from training with good grace and a laugh afterwards.

His magic aside, Mordred was being seen, thanked, respected, treasured, and glorified while Merlin – who had done all that Mordred had done _and nine years more of the same_ – remained seen as laughable, foolish, peculiar, and largely unimportant.

Worse than all that, and this was the most uncomfortable thing that weighed on Mordred’s mind, on Mordred’s very first mission as a knight he had pointed a sword to the throat of a fellow sorcerer. Not even one who posed any threat.

Just who had he become? As Osgar had preached about the judgment of the Disir, he had said nothing to defend him or the ancient gods of the Old Religion whom Arthur had brushed aside as deranged superstition. He neglected to defend even Merlin, when Arthur teased him that same evening, only watched silently as Merlin pushed Arthur to more seriously regard Osgar’s intentions and warnings. Later, at the cave of the Disir, Mordred still didn’t utter a word of support when Merlin advised that the knights disarm themselves, hadn’t even heeded Merlin’s advice for himself even though he knew it was merited, and he hadn’t done anything to reproach those who disrespectfully tore down the hanging relics.

It wasn’t until that outing that Mordred truly understood Merlin’s predicament of hiding in plain sight. It was exhausting to maintain such a strict watch on oneself when one had a home and a family to lose.

“ _It won’t always be like this. One day we’ll live in freedom again._ ”

Those had been the promises Merlin made that day but Mordred didn’t understand them. He had never lived a single moment in freedom. Mordred’s childhood had been a conflicting combination of joyous magical teachings and harsh whispered instructions on how to vanish. Lessons in hiding, disappearing, covering your trail so that you could always get away were mixed in with ancient stories passed down dozens of generations. The life that he knew as a druid was that of a timid mouse – prey that had to live its life assuming it was always being tracked, hunted, followed, death only a matter of days away. Mordred and the other druid children had grown up making sure they never laughed out loud because joy might lead to slaughter.

The years before he was knighted were the loneliest of his life. He had never stayed more than a month in any one place or with one group and was careful to avoid other druids. He hadn’t been happy or content but he had survived and that was more than most people he had known could say.

The sad conclusion was this: Mordred did not need a happy life in order to live it.

More than anything, he wanted that to change. He wanted the lives of his people to change, so that they could forget their fear of strangers and their fear of songs sung too loud. The life of a druid was never meant to be the one of fear and isolation that this generation had known.

Emrys had always been the key to making that dream a reality. Perhaps, Mordred thought, a partnership between Merlin and him would be enough to influence a change in Arthur and the knights – a change in the kingdom. Perhaps Merlin was tiring of fighting a battle alone from the shadows. Mordred was certainly tiring of suppressing his laughter to a there-and-gone smile.

Slipping a hand under his shirt, the newest knight of Camelot rubbed thoughtfully over his chest, a place where a scar should be expected but could not be found. He was reminded that he had already proved himself to the knights and to Arthur.

Perhaps it was time he proved himself to Merlin.

**Author's Note:**

> This was something of an experimental piece since I don't normally write from other character's points of view. Mordred is a series favourite of mine and he seemed a good place to start exploring.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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